“It is not at all a question of my liking or not liking the trip, but of the trip itself being—­quite the wildest thing ever heard of out of a story-book.”  Harsher terms had sprung first to my lips, but had somehow failed to get beyond them.

“Ah—­yet the world would be the poorer if certain wild trips had not been taken.  I seem to remember one Christopher Columbus, for instance.”

By a vivid lightning-flash of wrath I felt that this adventurer was laughing at me a little under his sober exterior—­even stirring me up as one does an angry kitten.

“Yes,” I flared out, “but Columbus did not inveigle a confiding old lady to go along with him!” Of course Aunt Jane is not, properly speaking, an old lady, but it was much more effective to pose her as one for the moment.

It was certainly effective, to judge by the sudden firm setting of his mouth.

“Lad,” he said quietly, “lend a hand below, will you?  They are overhauling some of our stuff ’tween decks.”

He waited until the Honorable Cuthbert, looking rather dazed, had retired.  We stood facing each other, my breath coming rather hurriedly.  There was a kind of still force about this mastered anger of the dour Scot, like the brooding of black clouds that at any moment may send forth their devastating fire.  Yet I myself was not endowed with red hair for nothing.

“Miss Harding,” he said slowly, “that was a bitter word you said.”

My head went up.

“Bitter, perhaps,” I flung back, “but is it not true?  It is for you to answer.”

“No, it is not for me to answer, because it is not for you to ask.  But since you talk of inveigling, let me give the history of my connection with the expedition.  You will understand then that I had nothing to do with organizing it, but was merely engaged to do my best to carry it through to success.”

“I have already heard a version of the matter from Mr. Vane.”

“And you think he is in the conspiracy too?” “Certainly not,” I replied hastily.  “I mean—­of course, I know he told me exactly what he believes himself.”

“Yes, you would take the lad’s word, of course.”  This with a slight but significant emphasis of which he was perhaps unconscious.  “Then I suppose you consider that he was inveigled too?”

“I am not required to consider Mr. Vane’s status at all,” I replied with dignity.  “It is my aunt whom I wish to protect.”  And suddenly to my dismay my voice grew husky.  I had to turn my head aside and blink hard at the sea.  I seemed to be encountering fearful and unexpected odds in my endeavor to rescue Aunt Jane.

He stood looking down at me—­he was a big man, though of lesser height than the superb Cuthbert—­in a way I couldn’t quite understand.  And what I don’t understand always makes me uncomfortable.

“Very well,” he said after a pause.  “Maybe your opportunity will come.  It would be a pity indeed if Miss Harding were to require no protecting and a young lady here with such a good will to it.  But if you will take the suggestion of a man of rather broader experience than your own, you will wait until the occasion arises.  It is bad generalship, really, to waste your ammunition like this.”